Living on the edge: The 53-year Mission of the NNSC
Saturday, March 11th, 2006
(From The Korea Herald, Feb. 23, 2006)
By Tracey Stark
Hidden from the view of most visitors to the misnamed Demilitarized Zone at Panmunjom is an enclave of nine soldiers representing the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission, an important but often overlooked part of the 1953 Armistice Agreement.
Resembling a woodland retreat, surrounded by evergreens and rolling mossy hills, it is the home of the Swedish and Swiss contingents of the NNSC whose jobs are to act as supervisors, observers, inspectors and investigators along the DMZ and, more specifically, in the Joint Security Area.
Palpable tension
Head of the delegation, Maj. Gen. Gerhard Bruegger of Switzerland explains their mission. It’s his turn to present this week and his Swedish counterpart, Maj. Gen. Lars Frisk, stands at an adjacent podium and only interjects occasionally.
“We see ourselves as a symbol of the armistice, having not been in the conflict,” the 53-year-old Bruegger says.
He explains that the ongoing task of the NNSC is to observe and report troop deployments and rotations, and to conduct special observations and investigations where violations have been reported. Their findings must be reported to the U.N. Military Armistice Commission.
They would conduct an investigation for the KPA – North Korean People’s Army – if they were asked, but that hasn’t happened in more than a decade.
As times have changed, so have their tasks. In 1995 all formal contact with the DPRK ended. Now they engage in confidence-building measures to try to bring the North back to the table.
They are also developing new tasks, such as validating the nature of any military exercises engaged in by the United States Forces Korea, the ROK – Republic of Korea, and the United Nations Command as well as the verification of helicopter flights between Camp Bonifas and the Joint Security Area.
The latter task was a result of complaints by the KPA about the flights, which were subsequently suspended from 1991 to 1997.
“We aren’t tasked by the UNC to do these things. It is entirely up to us,” Frisk, 55, interjects.
From time to time the NNSC will interview a defector, most often a soldier, who has crossed to the South through the DMZ. But these interviews are purely for humanitarian purposes, Bruegger insists.
“We don’t do intelligence work.”
In the NNSC’s earliest incarnation, the Swiss and Swedes – chosen by the Republic of Korea and the U.S., were accompanied by Polish and Czechoslovakian contingents – selected by the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea – or North Korea – and China.
In 1993 the Czechoslovakians left, as their country in its previous form no longer existed. In 1995 the Poles were asked to leave by the DPRK. The Poles continue to participate in annual plenary meetings.
Additionally, the NNSC engages in public relations work and gives tours to media, VIPs, and government and military officials. In 2005 more than 2,000 people visited.
Last Wednesday the two major generals attended the elementary school graduation of Koo Je-won, the only sixth grader this year in Taeseong-dong, a farming village in the DMZ.
Despite the availability of office and conference space in their own camp, the Swiss and Swedes hold weekly meetings at the JSA, a short ride down a narrow road. This is part of the protocol according to the Armistice Agreement.
They lead the way to building T-1, an aging, tin-covered structure straddling the North-South border. (The T stands for “temporary.”) On the center of the conference table sits the flag of the NNSC. It is blue, yellow, red and white – the colors in the flags of the original four members.
North Koreans have an entrance at their end of the building and although they are welcome to attend, they don’t sit in on the meetings.
Just inside the North Korean entrance are cubbyholes for exchanging papers. The Swiss and Swedish boxes are empty. The North Korean box is filled with summaries of the weekly meetings left by the NNSC. They date back to Aug. 2, 2005.
Frisk says they occasionally clear out the box and start over again.
Outside the windows of T-1 stand two KPA soldiers in their brown uniforms and Russian-style winter hats looking in at the delegation and guests. When a camera is raised to take their picture they scurry away.
On the South Korean side, the ROK soldiers stand in the ‘ROK Ready’ stance, which is a modified Taekwondo pose with one half of their body behind the cover of a building’s edge and the other half in the open, facing the North.
Bruegger and Frisk are unfazed by the hostility and tension that is palpable in the air at the JSA.
They are neutral, after all.
Outside the theater is a reminder of the war that never officially ended.
A rusty yellow sign reading ‘Military Demarcation Line’ marks the border 50 meters away, a few feet to the other side of a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. The fence curves around the camp and away from the border proper, partially enclosing the dozen or so acres with a false sense of security. In the event of an invasion, it could be likened to a “stop” sign – more suggestion than deterrent.
They say they occasionally see North Korean soldiers near the fence collecting firewood, but not too often.
Despite their ranks and uniforms these neutral soldiers have no weapons in their encampment, located half a kilometer east of the JSA.
Bruegger leans back in the soft blue sofa and unwraps a chocolate from a bowl on the coffee table in the Swiss Club. He looks out the window toward North Korea 20 meters away and says, “You cannot do diplomacy with a gun.”
Frisk looks equally at ease sipping his coffee in what has been described as “the scariest place on earth.”
“Security is an issue, of course,” Bruegger says, “but we don’t feel that we’re unsafe.”
He adds with a chuckle, “There are probably more ways to get killed in Seoul than here.”
The Swiss club is a cozy building with a pool table, bar, fireplace, soft chairs, highly-polished coffee tables and a satellite TV.
“You can learn a lot from watching North Korean television,” Bruegger says earnestly.
On the top shelf of the club’s bookcase sit 32 volumes of “Kim Il Sung: Works.” Other books about the two Koreas, war, diplomacy and history fill the shelves and appear a bit more worn than Kim’s tomes.
The walls of the club are lined with plaques and photos illustrating a five-decade-long NNSC history.
One black and white photo shows a barren landscape, covered with tents and temporary structures. It is the NNSC camp in 1955, at its largest. There were 400 members from the four nations stationed in either the camp or the 10 designated points of entry in both North and South Korea.
But when the points of entry were abandoned by the NNSC later in 1955 the need for so many members was gone as well. What remains today is a camp that Frisk estimates could comfortably hold “five more people” on top of its population of nine.
The Swedish club across the grounds is equally comfortable and contains the same collection of works by “The Great Leader,” but lacks a pool table. (The Swedes keep theirs in a separate building.)
To get to the Swedish side of the camp one must walk along a concrete path and across a bridge over a dry creek bed, then up a flight of stairs on a small hill. Today it’s slightly misty and the colors of the evergreens are muted and dull. But in the summer, they say, the place explodes with life and color.
Frisk says that he has seen wild boar, deer and foxes, along with some stray dogs that roam freely throughout the DMZ.
Down the hill, next to the dining room, stands a metal sculpture of a winged bull. It would look aggressive were it not for its silverware wings made of knives, forks and spoons. Perhaps another symbol of the members’ neutrality.
While the two delegations have separate camps, they are equal in size and design. The members each have single rooms and adjoining offices – larger than the average Korean apartment.
With Seoul close by, most of the Swedes keep an apartment at Yongsan as well, provided free of charge by the U.S. military, where they spend up to two days a week with their wives.
Only one member of the Swiss delegation is married.
Becoming a member of the NNSC is no easy task. Surprisingly, it’s a very popular assignment.
“It is totally voluntary,” Frisk says.
Both the Swiss and Swedes sign one year contracts to work on the DMZ and have the option to extend. The heads of delegation have longer contracts; four years for the Swiss and two years for the Swedes.
But not everybody can cut it for a year.
“We need people who can cooperate, who are settled,” Frisk says. “They are not only representing the camp, but also their country.” He says it requires a lot of self-discipline.
People have dropped out in less than a year for various reasons, but it’s rare, Frisk says.
Each member is trained as a military observer. The course is run by the United Nations and lasts three weeks.
“We are basically put through all of the situations that could be encountered,” says Lt. Col. Marc-Andre Ryter of the Swiss delegation.
This includes being abducted in the dead of night. “But the abduction is not for an extended period of time,” Ryter explains. “Remember, the course is not very long.”
They are also subjected to rigorous psychological tests to assess their ability to cope amid such tension.
While Bruegger rejects the notion that they are to be considered elite, he concedes with a laugh that they are at least “mentally stable.”
“When the Armistice Agreement was signed, nobody thought 53 years later it would still be the only valid document governing, technically, the war that is still there,” Bruegger says.
Frisk explains that there are really only two ways for the NNSC to leave the DMZ.
The first possibility is when the NNSC’s status is reviewed annually by the UNC. If it is agreed that their mostly-symbolic neutral presence is no longer needed, then it may be suggested that they leave.
The second is if a formal peace agreement is signed.
If there is a contradiction in pursuing a diplomatic mission while wearing a military uniform, Bruegger is the first to acknowledge it.
“It was the second secretary general of the United Nations, a Swede, who said, ‘Peacekeeping is not a job for soldiers, but only soldiers can do it.'”
(traceystark@heraldm.com)
traceystark